


Diagnosis

by masswisteria



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha Ana, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, F/F, Omega Mercy, Porn With Worldbuilding, first heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-17 07:27:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8135441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masswisteria/pseuds/masswisteria
Summary: Angela is going into heat. She's not supposed to be able to go into heat. That's what "infertile" means. And yet it is happening anyway. And Captain Amari is staring at her.Angela is so unprepared for this.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my wonderful betas [anyilherron](http://anyilherron.tumblr.com) and [buckyballbearing](http://buckyballbearing.tumblr.com)!

Angela stared uncomprehendingly at the blue LED numbers for several long moments before deciding that they really did say that it was 0330. Which meant she had only been asleep for about four hours, at the most. She kicked off the overly warm duvet and rolled over to try to get back to sleep. Angela wasn’t on call again until the evening, which meant she could sleep in this morning, and damn if she wasn’t going to do just that. She flipped over onto her stomach and tried to ignore the way she was sweating through the thin cotton t-shirt she had worn to bed. Unfortunately, once she noticed it clinging to her skin she couldn’t _not_ notice it, and she lasted all of thirty seconds before stripping it off and tossing it to land somewhere on the floor, no longer relevant to her life at the moment. Which was supposed to be sleep. Sleep was supposed to be her life at the moment. She rolled back onto her side, grumbling.

It took a half hour of ineffective tossing and turning before she finally acquiesced to the fact that further sleep would be eluding her. Her muscles _itched_ beneath her skin, eager for her to be up and moving. “Lights, thirty percent,” she ordered, sighing as her bedroom gradually brightened. Now that she had admitted she was awake, she had to decide what to do. Her eyes wandered the room, considering. By all rights she should feel exhausted, with only four hours of sleep after coming off of a surprise eighteen hour shift - those happen when the scheduled on-call finally comes down with the flu that had been making the rounds - but instead she felt quite the opposite. Her gaze landed on her sweat-soaked, discarded t-shirt, lying in a pile near the door to her en suite. Angela frowned; she always kept her room cool at night, so why should she have been sweating? She pressed her hand against her forehead, and sure enough it felt warmer than usual. _Hardly the most precise or accurate measurement method, but it’s all I have on_ hand _at the moment._ She smirked to herself at the pun, then got up and went to her wardrobe to find a PT uniform to throw on for the moment. If she wanted a precise and accurate measurement, she knew how to get it.

 

Angela sat still, waiting as the automated examination unit’s scanner passed across her forehead. Angela felt a little silly coming into the infirmary because she felt a little warm and sweaty, but she had dismissed the night nurse’s offer of assistance - as well as her surprise at seeing Angela so early - so at least she wasn’t wasting anyone’s time but her own. And with Dr. Rajavi and a few other members of the medical staff getting sick, perhaps a little caution was in order. Not that Angela ever got sick - there were more than enough nanobiotics in her system at any given time to make that a virtual impossibility - but that just made any deviation from normal even more of a concern. If she _had_ contracted the flu, that could indicate something was very wrong with the system she frequently depended on to keep her alive in combat situations.

After a few seconds, the scanner beeped, and results flashed onto Angela’s tablet. Blood pressure: 97 over 60. Heart rate: 60 BPM. O2 saturation: 99%. Temperature: 37.3ºC. _Now that’s odd._ Everything was normal, except for a slightly elevated temperature. In a patient, she would be inclined to dismiss a reading like that as normal fluctuation, but she knew _her_ vitals, and _she_ never ran that hot normally. It could still be nothing, but it could also be...something; Angela wasn’t sure what. She drummed her fingers against her hip. _Oh what the hell…_ She brought up the blood work form on her tablet. _Comprehensive metabolic...CBC...FHP...that should cover it._ If none of those tests showed anything unusual she’d let it go. She submitted the request, placed her arm on the padded rest, and waited as the exam unit drew the two vials of blood necessary for the tests. It was a quick, relatively painless process, and a couple minutes later she was inserting two vials of blood into one of the lab’s automatic analyzers, a small bandage on the inside of her elbow. The exam unit had coded the vials with the tests she had selected; the analyzer would read that code, run the appropriate tests, and send the results straight to Angela’s phone. The whole process would take about an hour to complete, which meant she had some time to kill. She exited the lab, idly fidgeting with a pen she had...where had she picked up the pen? Rolling her eyes at her own behavior, Angela walked to the reception desk and deposited it in the jar of mismatched pens and pencils they kept on the desk. Now what was she to do for an hour? She glanced toward her office; there was plenty of work waiting for her there, certainly. Of course, there were those adjustments she’d been meaning to make to the Valkyrie’s wings; now would be a great time to take care of that, while the workshop was devoid of Swedish engineers who liked to talk her ear off about all the ways she could weaponize her designs.

“Excuse me, Dr. Ziegler…?”

“Huh? What...yes?” The night nurse’s voice shook Angela from her thoughts. The nurse - Sofia, Angela remembered, only a couple weeks out of Recruit Orientation - seemed apprehensive, looking up at her from behind the desk.

“Um, could you...the tapping…,” she said, pointing at Angela’s hands on the counter, and Angela realized that she had been drumming her fingers against the countertop.

“Oh!” Angela yanked her hands back from the counter, embarrassed.

“Sorry,” Sofia said. “It’s just that I’m trying to enter these forms into the system, and it was rather distracting.”

“Of course, no need to apologize! I’ll...just get out of your hair.” Angela laughed at herself, hoping to dispel some of Sofia’s nervousness. “Perhaps I’ll go to the gym, try to burn off some of this excess energy I seem to have!” The sentence was out of her mouth before she really thought about it, but it actually sounded like a good idea, now that she had said it. She gave Sofia a quick wave goodnight and left the infirmary.

 

The Watchpoint gym was deserted this early in the morning. The only sounds Angela heard were that of her breathing and her feet hitting the treadmill. A high pitched beep from the machine disturbed the silence and signaled that Angela had completed her thirty minute run. She took a long drink from her water bottle as the machine slowed for her cool-down, surprised to find it almost empty. She had pushed herself harder than usual, and a pleasant sort of warmth suffused the muscles in her legs. Another beep sounded, this time from Angela’s phone, and it vibrated harshly against the edges of the cupholder she had set it in. Angela picked it up, and began paging through the newly delivered test results as she finished her cool-down. _Normal…normal…normal…norm - wait, what?_

She scrolled back to make sure she saw what she thought she saw - elevated levels of FSH and estradiol - and confirmed much to her dismay that she had not misread anything. Angela stopped the treadmill and quickly paged through the rest of her results hoping to find anything that could suggest an alternative explanation for what she was feeling, but everything else was normal. There was only one conclusion she could come to: she was going into heat. _But I’m infertile!_ She had been tested - standard practice ever since the Omnic Crisis - and diagnosed with what would later be called Austin Syndrome, genetic damage caused by exposure to the contaminated fallout from burning cities. The ecological impact of the war often went forgotten, but it was clearly visible in the dramatically higher incidence of cancer and genetic disorders amongst those that grew up during the Crisis and Restoration. For Angela, the diagnosis had been a blessing; it left her free to focus on her studies and career without any distractions. Not that she hadn’t had her fair share of fun, but it had been just that. She had not had to fight the societal expectation for omegas to stay barefoot and pregnant ‘for the good of humanity.’ It was amazing how much an existential threat and the loss of one in every three humans could set back the fight for reproductive equality.

Now that she thought about it, she wondered if an omega could even function within Overwatch, given the organization’s tendency toward strong alphas amongst its ranks. Maybe she could stay in the lab, but could she ever expect to do fieldwork if she had to schedule missions around where she was in her cycle? _But this just doesn’t make sense!_ Surely she would have experienced a cycle long before now, if her result had been a false positive. _I’m 23 for God’s sake!_ That left only one possibility - that she had been cured - but that was impossible, unless… _Oh._

Just then she heard the gym door open, and she turned to see Captain Ana Amari standing in the open doorway staring at her, seemingly frozen a moment before slowly entering and closing the door behind her. “Good morning, Angela,” she said, a sly smile spreading across her lips.

Her rich, husky voice sent shivers down Angela’s spine. _Scheisse._ “Good...good morning!” Her voice came out higher and breathier than intended, but it would have to do. Angela swallowed and smiled back, trying to maintain composure as her body responded to Ana’s response to the pheromones that Angela was apparently quite capable of producing after all.

Ana’s hips swayed as she walked, drawing Angela’s gaze no matter how many times she forced herself to look elsewhere; Ana’s eyes never left Angela’s. Angela could see Ana’s growing bulge despite her wearing the same loose-fitting regulation PT shorts as she was. Angela noted that Ana had opted for the tank version of the uniform, which showed off her toned arms rather nicely. She stopped in front of Angela’s treadmill, casually leaning over the control panel. “I don’t mean to pry - oh who am I kidding, of course I mean to pry! -” she said, chuckling to herself before continuing, “but you seem to be in a bit of a…state. Something I can help you with?”

Angela looked away from Ana, trying not to get drawn in by the heat in her gaze. “I, um…I’m not sure what you mean,” she stalled, not sure how to process this situation that up until about five minutes ago she’d had the luxury of not having to worry about.

“‘What I mean’…” Ana echoed, slipping around the handrail and stepping onto the treadmill. “What I mean is, here you are like this, and here I am.” Ana nudged Angela under her chin, guiding Angela’s eyes back to meet hers. “And don’t think that I haven’t noticed the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention.” Ana hadn’t taken away her hand, and Angela felt her thumb softly stroking along her jaw. “I am _always_ paying attention,” she said, winking, and closed the distance between them, pulling Angela into a kiss. She went stiff in shock for a moment, before giving in to the press of Ana’s tongue between her lips, opening to let her in, relaxing into her arms. Ana’s tongue darted against hers, and her hands roamed over her body. One worked its way beneath her shirt to grope her breast through her sports bra, the other squeezed her ass, pressing Angela against Ana’s erection. Ana’s hips twitched, eliciting a moan from Angela, which seemed to serve as a wake up call to the small part of rationality that remained in Angela’s head.

“Mmm-wait, wait!” Angela pushed back from Ana, breaking off the kiss. She immediately missed the feeling of her lips and her hands and her…body. But this was much too fast; she couldn’t let herself do this, not caught as she was in a whirlwind of hormones that she had been wholly unprepared for. “I-I-I need to…wait. Yes, um, yes.” She slipped out of Ana’s arms, avoiding looking her in the eye. She needed to get away, and give herself some time to process what was going on, to move past ‘shock’ so she could process this rationally.

Ana turned and watched Angela go, surprise written on her face. “Oh…kay?”

“Sorry, I just…I think I should go,” Angela managed, backing away from the machine and Ana. She backed away further until bumping into and nearly tripping over an elliptical bike, then turned and rushed out the door. Once in the hallway, Angela let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She started back to her room in quick, frantic steps, concentrating on the simple, manageable thought of ‘ _got to get away._ ’ She was running by the time she got there.


	2. Chapter 2

An hour and a half later, Ana was still mentally kicking herself for coming on to Angela so strongly. To be fair, in Ana’s experience when someone in Angela’s condition is out and about, it is usually because they’re looking for attention. Angela, though… Ana hoped the poor girl was alright. She checked her phone, but Angela still hadn’t responded to the simple ‘ _you ok?_ ’ Ana had sent before her workout. _I suppose I could check on her..._ Although showing up outside her door was probably the worst possible way for Ana to try to sooth her nerves. She put her phone away, but only made it two steps down the hall toward the officers’ mess before she felt it buzz in her pocket.

’ _It’s alright, I’m fine._ ’ Ana breathed a sigh of relief on seeing Angela’s reply. A moment passed before Angela continued, ‘ _But I think a quiet day of resting is in order for me today._ ’

‘ _Fair enough._ ’ Ana was glad to see that Angela seemed to be alright, but she still worried about her rather brazen display. ‘ _You really ought to be careful, in your condition._ ’

‘ _I’ll be sure to keep that in mind next time I find myself going into heat out of fucking nowhere._ ’

_Out of nowhere?_ She would have expected Angela to have detailed records of her cycles going back to her first one, with a spreadsheet calculating when she would be going into heat next down to the hour, if not the minute. ‘ _What? Aren’t you keeping track of this?_ ’

‘ _This was my first time._ ’

‘ _How?!_ ’ Now Ana was truly confused. That just seemed impossible, unless… She quickly typed back to Angela. ‘ _How old are you?_ ’ Cold fear ran through Ana as she waited for her reply. Angela was young when they brought her into Overwatch, but not _that_ young, not according to her records, anyway. But a lot of things had gotten pretty chaotic during the Crisis, and it wasn’t unheard of for records to have been lost or mixed up, especially for someone born in the middle of all of it. _Please don’t tell me we recruited her when she was 13 or something._

‘ _Relax, I’m 23. And sterile. Or, I was, I suppose. That seems to no longer be the case._ ’

_Oh. Oh shit. And I…_ Ana was stunned. It certainly explained Angela’s surprise and confusion, even if it raised other questions. ‘ _Oh shit Angela I’m sorry. If I’d had any idea I never would’ve come onto you like that. How did that happen?_ ’

‘ _I really don’t know._ ’

Ana felt doubly awful about what had happened that morning; it was no wonder why Angela had been so scared. She wished there was something she could do to help - something other than the obvious, anyway. ‘ _Let me know if there is anything you need._ ’ It hit her as she opened the door to the mess hall, and she texted Angela again, ‘ _Have you had breakfast yet?_ ’

 

Angela let her phone fall at her side and stretched out on the bed, her feet pushing the covers further down. She was far too warm for anything more than a thin sheet, and even that would be just barely tolerable. Though she would have gladly bury herself in blankets if doing so would alleviate her other symptoms. She rolled over onto her stomach, whimpering. The chat with Ana had been a welcome distraction, taking her mind off the ache and desire that had been building within her all morning. But even the puzzle of how her infertility had been healed couldn’t hold her focus; it didn’t help that she was pretty sure of the answer - not that she was about to admit to a superior officer that she had regularly used herself as a test subject for her nanobiotics research. And now that she no longer had a conversation to attend to, she couldn’t help but notice the way her hips twitched against the bed involuntarily, or how her stiff nipples brushing against the bed sheet sent little jolts of pleasure through her with each movement. Absent any texts to steal her focus, thoughts of Ana only exacerbated the feelings. She had run from her this morning out of panic, more than anything; had she propositioned her on any other day, they would probably be on their third round by now. Angela was certainly attracted to her, as Ana had pointed out, and Ana had been far from subtle when it came to flirting with Angela. Perhaps too unsubtle, given the age and seniority gap between them, but Angela had seen no reason to complain about such things.

Angela slid one hand down between her body and the mattress, her fingertips brushing through sweat-dampened curls to provide the friction her body was searching for. Her body seemed to ache for the attention she was finally giving it. She wasted no further time, her delicate fingers immediately rubbing in well-practiced circles. She let out a soft sigh at the relief provided by her touch, insufficient though it was. She rolled her hips down into the mattress, grinding against her fingers as they circled again and again, seeking more pressure and finding it, but it still wasn’t what she needed. Angela pushed lower, working her fingers through slick folds toward her entrance. She pressed inside, and a low moan escaped her lips, gaining in pitch as she pumped two fingers in and out. The angle was beyond awkward, and she wasn’t sure how long she would be able to keep it up before her hand cramped, but for the moment it was getting her closer to what she needed.

_How much better would it be if Ana…_ The thought trailed off, words fading into images of the older woman: Ana walking toward her, brash confidence written in the smirk on her face, her thin tank top showing off biceps and triceps and hinting at more - that one, at least, was memory, and recalling the lust in Ana’s eyes as she stared Angela down this morning sent a surge of heat through her. The scene continued in Angela’s mind, through the point of Ana pressing her back against the treadmill controls and quickly diverging into fantasy: Ana whispering promises of ecstasy in her rich contralto voice; Ana pulling her away from the treadmill and laying her out naked on a weight bench, heedless of whoever might walk in; Ana leaning over her, her dark hair hanging in a curtain around them, strands of it clinging to her face, both their bodies slick with sweat; Ana staring intensely into Angela’s eyes as she pushed deep inside her. Angela gripped and twisted the bed sheet in her hand as she pressed a third finger inside. Her pace quickened, hips rocking down against her hand as she pressed upward and inward. Angela could feel herself approaching the edge, dancing along it in maddening fashion, pressure and heat building inside her. She ground against her palm and cried out with every thrust as she fucked herself, rhythm and order falling away in the desperate search for _more_. Finally she crossed the point of no return, everything building for a moment or two longer, before she tipped over the edge. Angela pressed her face into her pillow to muffle her cries as pleasure pulsed through her body, her fingers and hips twitching erratically, trying to keep up through her climax despite the chaos of her orgasm.

Angela flopped onto her back, panting, basking in the languid sensation taking over as she came down from her high. The relief was temporary, she knew, only masking the need for alpha copulatory pheromones instead of meeting it, but at least for a few minutes she could enjoy this feeling. Gradually the blissful afterglow faded, and in the relative lucidity it left behind, she began to consider her predicament rationally. She thought she could manage the physical symptoms on her own; there were certainly worse ways to spend several days than with serial masturbation sessions. The potential impact on her career - on her life - was more worrisome. She was fairly certain that the preponderance of alphas in Overwatch was more than just self-selection at work. She had certainly heard plenty of officers complain about how the presence of omegas can “disrupt unit cohesion.” Angela rolled over and sighed, then yelped as her phone - which she was apparently now lying on top of - vibrated against her lower back.

She fished her phone out from under her and stared blankly at the text from Ana. ’ _Room service. :)_ ’

‘ _?_ ’

‘ _I brought you breakfast. It’s sitting outside your door._ ’

Only then did Angela remember Ana’s earlier question. A sudden grumble from her stomach suggested that she had best investigate her offering soon. She grabbed her robe off its wall hook and put it on as she walked to the door, tying it loosely around her waist. She pushed a button and the door slid open with a beep. On the floor just outside her door was a tray packed with food and drink. Angela’s stomach growled again as the scent of Danish bacon, pancakes, fried eggs, and coffee hit her nose. A far cry from her usual _Müesli_ and yogurt. Angela texted Ana, ’ _Oh wow. this is a ton of food._ ’ She brought the tray inside and shut the door before continuing. ‘ _Oh my goodness thank you so much_ ’

Ana’s reply came quickly. ‘ _They don’t call me Mama Bear for nothing. :)_ ’ Angela smiled at the nickname. ‘ _I take care of my people._ ’

Angela set her phone down so she could dig into the _very_ full English breakfast Ana had brought her. She was making her way through her third pancake when the same anxieties from earlier came to mind. She traded her fork for her phone, deciding despite the twisting feeling in her stomach that it was best to find out sooner rather than later. She texted Ana, ’ _What’s going to happen with me?_ ’

‘ _What do you mean?_ ’

‘ _I mean my place here, my position…won’t I be a distraction to my team now?_ ’ She couldn’t bring herself to ask straight out if she was going to have to leave Overwatch.

‘ _Well if you went out on a mission right now, yeah. But as long as you can manage it, I’m sure we can make things work. It wouldn’t be the first time._ ’ Angela blinked back tears she hadn’t been aware of and re-read Ana’s reply several times, not quite believing she was reading it right.

‘ _Speaking of which, how are you holding up?_ ’

‘ _I’m managing._ ’

‘ _Good. I’ll clear your schedule for the next few days. Let me know if you need anything._ ’

Angela thanked Ana, and returned to her breakfast, pre-empting the urge to both laugh and cry or both by stuffing her mouth with a spoonful of baked beans. She could stay, that was the important thing. As long as she managed herself, Ana said she could stay. And she had done so, thus far. Sure, it had been uncomfortable, and no doubt would be again - she could already feel the nervous, frantic energy building up again - but it was manageable. _And it’s not like I didn’t enjoy myself._ As long as things didn’t get worse, she would be just fine.


	3. Chapter 3

Things got worse.

The urges came back with a vengeance, quickly rising to and surpassing their earlier peak, and while Angela could meet some of that need herself, she found relief to be increasingly short-lived. She’d expected that, of course; as a doctor she was plenty familiar with the mechanics of heat, even if she lacked first-hand experience. But reading about hormone levels and secondary symptoms in a textbook was one thing; having those hormones flooding her body was quite another. Angela tried to make a study of the novel experience, attempting to objectively catalog her symptoms as they progressed. The scientist in her found the whole process fascinating - up until the point where she could no longer focus well enough to continue her analysis, which turned out to be distressingly early in the day. Books and movies fell victim to the same problem; it was bad enough that she was feeling this way, trying and failing to follow a story and knowing that it was because of this ridiculous process her body was going through just added insult to injury.

Sometime in the afternoon, Angela asked Athena for a list of alternative remedies for dealing with heat. She knew perfectly well that none of them were likely to work, but she was getting desperate. She tried the more sensible, plausible ones first - she did yoga poses on the floor of her suite, she sipped peppermint tea slowly from a teaspoon - but they of course proved useless, and she was left with the others to try. So Angela wrapped cold compresses around her thighs, spun around in circles for three minutes, and lowered her thermostat by five degrees, which left her damp, dizzy, and cold - and just as frustrated as before. _So much for the wisdom of the folk remedy._

Angela clutched at a pillow as the need rose within her once more, her underwear still damp and hand slightly tacky from her latest attempt at finding release through her own fingers and imagination. The latter proved somewhat counterproductive, as it seemed to be stuck on an endless loop of scenes depicting a certain captain performing acts that would be considered “unbecoming of an officer” - at least, when performed in the watchpoint’s gym, or in the locker room showers, or the back of a transport, or any of the other public settings her mind had come up with. _I swear to God I had better not come out of this with a new fetish._ Her subconsciousness clearly knew what her body wanted. Her consciousness wanted it too, for that matter. But Angela remembered Ana’s orders: “manage it.” And so she tried.

Her phone buzzed, and she stopped whimpering just long enough to read the new message from Ana. ‘ _how you holding up?_ ’

Angela answered with assurances that she was just fine. Moments later Ana replied, ‘ _Angela are you alright? Pretty sure half of that message was German._ ’

Angela blinked and re-read her text. _Schiesse._ ‘ _No…,_ ’ she admitted, ‘ _I’m really not._ ’

‘ _What’s wrong?_ ’

Angela’s hands shook, and she had to correct her typing several times. ‘ _I don’t know if I can do this. It’s just too much._ ’

‘ _Well you are kind of doing this on Expert Mode. You don’t have to do it alone._ ’

Angela didn’t understand. ‘ _But you said I needed to manage this myself._ ’

‘ _I just meant you would have to track your cycle, schedule around it, and all that. I didn’t mean you couldn’t fuck someone! Is that what you’ve been thinking?_ ’

Angela stared at her phone for moment, dumbfounded, before concluding that there was really only one proper way to respond. ‘ _In that case why in the hell aren’t you in my bedroom yet?_ ’

 

Angela sat up as soon as she heard her door open, listening in the near darkness as Ana made her way toward Angela’s bedroom. Moments later Ana was there in her doorway, in her dress blue uniform, the picture of an Overwatch officer in her jacket and tie - except for the part where she was visibly staring at Angela, licking her lips. Seeing the way Ana looked her up and down and the way her bulge pressed against the front of her slacks was better than any of the visions Angela had conjured up in her head. Ana entered the room, and Angela rose and met her half way, wasting no time in pulling her into a deep kiss. Ana’s lips were soft against hers, and Angela moaned against them when Ana nibbled lightly at her lower lip. Just Ana’s presence was enough to ease the harsh edge of Angela’s heat, and the relief was palpable, as was the need for her to feel every inch of Ana’s body. She undid the buttons on Ana’s jacket and slipped her hands inside to hug her close; Angela could feel the well-toned muscles of Ana’s back through the thin cotton of her blouse.

Ana broke off their kiss to chide Angela. “You didn’t even touch the lunch that I brought you.”

“Couldn’t eat,” Angela managed to reply. “Had other things on my mind.”

“I’ll bet,” Ana said, chuckling. She took half a step back, shrugging out of her jacket and tossing it aside. For a moment Angela thought she was literally swooning before she realized Ana had scooped her up and was carrying her bridal style back to her bed. Ana set her down gently, catching her tank top and stripping it off her in the process. She paused kneeling next to her bed, eyes roaming over Angela’s body, taking in her now bare chest, pale, pert breasts with rosy pink nipples stiff with arousal. “God, you’re beautiful,” she whispered. She reached out, tracing her fingers down the side of Angela’s face, brushing aside stray strands of hair. “Are you sure you want this?” Ana asked.

Angela shook her head several times before finding her voice. “ _Ja, bitte. Please._ ”

“Good.” With a smile Ana joined Angela on the bed, swinging one leg over to straddle her hips. Ana went to work removing her necktie, and Angela started in on the buttons of her blouse. In moments she had it open, revealing a surprisingly lacy black bra and well-toned abs that Angela could not resist touching. Angela ran her hands up Ana’s body as Ana leaned down to kiss her, brushing over soft skin and firm muscle before cupping her breasts through her bra, eliciting a sigh from Ana that whispered like a secret between them. Angela delighted in the press of Ana’s lips against hers, and in the feel of her tracing wet kisses and licks along her jaw. Angela moaned and bucked her hips against Ana, who seemed to be everywhere, her hand massaging Angela’s breast, her mouth nipping and sucking all around her neck in ways that were sure to leave bruises. Not that Angela minded in the slightest; the thought of forgoing the simple nanobiotic treatment and walking the halls tomorrow proudly wearing Ana’s marks like a necklace for all to see sent a shiver down her spine. _Okay…so perhaps I_ do _have a bit of an exhibitionist streak._ The thought was pushed aside by Ana’s fingers brushing over then lightly pinching her nipple. Angela arched her back, rising into the touch that sent shocks through her. Angela reached behind Ana, unclasping her bra, anxious to return the sensation, and Ana sat up and stripped it off, tossing it aside. Angela moved to take one of her dark nipples into her mouth, but Ana pushes her back down, hands on her shoulders, her tongue clucking. “Let me take care of you.”

Angela nodded, heart racing in anticipation and Ana scooted back and lowered herself down to trail kisses down Angela’s body, lingering briefly to suck at her breast before continuing down past her waist. She nibbled along the hard edge of Angela’s hip, drawing a sharp, breathy cry from her. Angela writhed beneath Ana as she teased her, attending to hips and thighs until Angela was begging in just about any language she knew for Ana to continue. When she finally licks along her folds and works her tongue between to circle around Angela’s clit, she nearly cried with relief. Angela’s hips rose to meet Ana’s tongue, rocking into the touch, building a much more pleasant tension within her. The feel of Ana slipping first one then two fingers inside her left Angela gasping. Ana pumped and curled her fingers inside her, and before long Angela was squeezing down on Ana’s hand, shaking and crying out as her climax rolled through her. Ana’s ministrations continued through Angela’s orgasm until she was completely spent, breathing heavily and reaching for Ana, who obligingly crawled up the bed to wrap Angela in her arms.

Angela rolled onto her side and pulled Ana into a kiss; she could taste herself, sweet and tangy on Ana’s lips. She licked at Ana’s chin, smiling impishly, and felt Ana stir against her in response. “Why are you still wearing these?” Angela asked, reaching down and tugging at Ana’s belt and waistband in emphasis.

Ana laughed. “Because I wanted to give you a chance to catch your breath. But if you insist…” She pushed Angela back against the mattress, then stood and began undoing her belt. Angela watched with interest; this was, after all, what her body had been asking for all day. In moments Ana had shed both pants and boxers, freeing herself, and Angela couldn’t resist reaching out to run her fingers along her length. Angela took her in hand and smiled impishly at the little hitches in Ana’s breath that came with her long, slow strokes. Ana caught her wrist and pulled her hand away before putting on a condom and climbing back onto the bed, nudging Angela’s legs apart so she could kneel between them. She slid forward and now it was Angela’s breath that caught in her throat, her chest tight with anticipation and her mind a buzzing mess of excitement and desire. Ana paused to look up at Angela, who simply bit her lip and nodded, hips almost shaking with Ana pressed against her, so close to what she wanted. At Angela’s assent Ana finally entered her. She moved slowly, giving Angela time to adjust, and Angela closed her eyes and sighed as Ana worked her way inside. Ana began rocking against her - short, careful thrusts that brought Ana deeper with each one. Angela’s sighs gave way to moans and before long her hips were moving with Ana’s, chasing the sensation of Ana moving against her, and Ana seemed to take the hint and picked up her pace.

Angela gave herself over to the sensation of Ana fucking her, the press of Ana’s hips against hers, the shivers of pleasure as she slid against Angela in just the right way, the squeal of the metal bed frame flexing against itself, not quite drowned out by Angela’s own cries echoing against the concrete walls of her watchpoint dorm. Distantly she thought about just how soundproof the watchpoint’s walls _weren’t_ , but then Ana shifted her angle and it was all Angela could do not to scream her name with each thrust. _I don’t think that was out loud, anyway._ Ana’s hand slid inward from Angela’s hip to play just above where they were joined, fingers brushing over Angela’s clit in maddening fashion. Angela could feel her own pleasure rapidly building, encouraged by the dual sensations of Ana within her and without. She tightened her legs around Ana, needing to feel more of her, as much of her as she possibly could. Angela reached for any part of Ana she could reach, groping at her breasts, raking red lines across her shoulders, her thighs. Ana’s thrusts gained speed, now punctuated by grunts of pleasure from her, and maybe it was just inevitability and coincidence, but Angela swore it was that sound - full of raw, primal lust - that sent her over the edge, now screaming Ana’s name for a certainty. Angela’s entire body seemed to shake and buck wildly against Ana, who maintained her pace and rhythm through it all for a time, drawing out Angela’s orgasm until she too came with a shout, pumping deep inside as Angela’s body shuddered around her. Ana carried them through and down from their climax, groaning with each slowing thrust until finally she collapsed against Angela, spent.

Angela held Ana against her, finding comfort in the press of her body against her. She felt sated in a way she could not have imagined a day ago. The frantic need that had lived like an itch beneath her skin since this morning was gone, truly this time, dispelled by the pheromone-induced cascade of hormones still coursing through her veins. Angela giggled softly to herself, amused at how quickly she could move back to her attempts to analyze and catalog the experience.

Ana shifted to lie next to Angela, wrapping an arm around her. “Something funny?” she asked.

Angela shook her head. “No, not really, just…it’s all rather silly, isn’t it?” She waved her hand vaguely. “All these hormones and pheromones and everything.” She pulled Ana down into a deep kiss before adding, “Fun, too. Definitely fun. But also silly.”

Angela shivered slightly, and Ana pulled a sheet up to cover both of them. A few moments passed in silence before Angela asked the question that had creeped into her mind. “So…what now?”

Ana propped herself up on one elbow so she could look at Angela properly, giving her a softly serious look. “You said it yourself, ‘silly and fun.’ That’s all it has to be, if you want. Silly and fun and a good way to deal with what would otherwise be a very frustrating time.”

Angela considered that answer a moment. “And if I don’t? If I want…?” she let her voice trail off, not quite sure what she would ask for, or if she wanted to ask for it.

Ana smiled. “Then we can talk about it.”

Angela let her head drop back against her pillow, grinning. “Good. But later. Given the buzz I’m still feeling I probably shouldn’t be making any serious decisions for at least a few hours.”

“Later then,” Ana agreed.


End file.
